


This Is Gonna Hurt

by ArchangelOfAwesomeness



Category: Gone Series - Michael Grant
Genre: Burns, Cannibalism, Drake's a real creep, Gore, No Smut, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-16 21:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20609852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArchangelOfAwesomeness/pseuds/ArchangelOfAwesomeness
Summary: Caine is dead. Sam is hiding. Drake needs to know where he is. He needs Sam dead. He kidnaps a kid and tries to torture him for information but he's refusing to talk. Drake needs to step up his game.





	This Is Gonna Hurt

Drake's one true love lies within the hunt. The way the adrenaline courses through his bloodstream and fills him with a slow boiling lust. The way his prey screams and begs for mercy even when they’re too far gone to even stand a chance at survival. He loved the sight of the blood dripping from wounds where the skin parted for the cool metal of his blade. He loved the raw flesh smell that the crimson liquid produced. But above all, he loved the metallic taste of the warm fluid when he licked it off his knife.

“TELL ME WHERE HE IS!!” Drake roared, sending particles of spit flying onto the face of the smaller boy that sat before him. Although time was abundant, he was getting impatient, he needed to find Sam and kill him. Tear out his throat and feed it to the coyotes, or perhaps allow himself to indulge in the taste. He wanted to do to Sam what he’d already done to Caine. Make him scream and cry and bleed. Watch the life drain from his eyes and his body go limp as the last ounce of life leaves him.

The boy, Cigar, flinched in response but kept otherwise silent, his dark brown hair fell over his tightly shut eyes. He was about thirteen, definitely younger and shorter than Drake, he had a plumper frame though and was clearly not as strong. He was bound to a chair with thick ropes that cut deep into his ankles and wrists.

Drake howled in blind fury, spitting out incoherent strings of curse words. He stalked over to the wall and punched it hard enough to dislocate a couple of bones. He hit it again and again and again until he stopped, knuckles bleeding profusely, and turned to Cigar. Baring his teeth, he prowled up to the kid and landed the final punch to his cheek.

Cigar strained against the restraints, jerking to the side so violently that he managed to tip the chair over. He landed on the cold, hard tiles with a loud thud, sending even more volts of pain throughout his body. Tears built up in his eyes as he began to sniffle and sob.

Drake wrapped his thick, red tentacle around the back of the chair and, with one fluid motion, he propped it back up on its feet. Slowly, he leaned close enough to Cigar that he could smell the stink of sweat and cheap beer. “Mark my words, I will make you talk.” He growled, grinning wickedly as he moved his mouth down to Cigar’s jaw and traced the tear trail with his tongue, lapping up the saltiness as Cigar squirmed and whimpered, trying to get away. He chuckled deeply as he stood up straight again and headed to the boiling kettle on the stovetop.

Cigar could only watch with wide eyes as Drake grabbed the kettle and sauntered over to him, he gingerly raised it above Cigar’s head. “I’m giving one last chance. Tell me where Sam’s hiding and maybe you can keep your hideous face intact.”

Maybe Drake was too hasty or maybe Cigar was too shocked to do anything more that shake his head and whine fearfully. Drake tipped the kettle, pouring a thin stream of boiling water onto Cigar's head. 

At first there was no reaction, it was almost as if time itself had frozen. Then the heat hit Cigar, it got hotter and hotter until the initial shock wore off and he felt the pain. He let out a horrific scream that echoed all through the house. The water cooked his flesh and instantly blistered the skin, leaving bloodied patches of skin all over Cigar's head, shoulders and back. His skin had rapidly melted and become one with his shirt.

The scream never broke as Drake emptied the rest of the water onto Cigar. He tossed the empty kettle to the side and it landed with a loud clang as it rolled away, slammed against the wall after a moment. When the screams and thrashing finally died down, Drake placed his hand on Cigar’s chin and tipped his head up, provoking a strangled sob. “Where’s Sam?” More sobs but no response. 

Drake growled and nodded to himself. “Alright. If you don’t wanna talk now, I’m gonna make sure you never talk again.” He said, reaching for the hunting knife he kept tucked into the waistband of his black ripped jeans. He twirled it around his fingers, making sure that Cigar could see the way the light danced off the sharp blade. “Open your mouth.” He demanded, bringing the knife to Cigar’s cheek and gently pressing the cool metal to his damaged and sore skin, soothing it in a way.

Cigar wanted to violently shake his head but his face would be sliced with any minor movement so he remained still, staring at Drake with pleading eyes. He clenched his jaws firmly shut but was no match for Drake. After another punch to the side of the face, his jaw loosened and Drake gripped it tightly, pulling his bottom jaw down enough to expose his tongue. Carefully, he reached the knife inside Cigar’s mouth and began sawing away at his tongue, all while Cigar thrashed and cried out in pain, his sounds muffled and distorted by Drake’s hand and the blade that filled his mouth.

Blood spurted from Cigar’s mouth with each slice, colouring Drake’s face and shirt red. Crimson droplets painted freckles across Drake’s cheeks and gave him a false air of innocence. It took mere moments for the pain to overwhelm the younger boy and render him unconscious. A few moments more and Cigar’s tongue fell from his mouth, landing on the ground with a wet thud.

Drake licked the blood from his knife and tucked in back into his waistband, heading over to the other room where he fetched a large canister filled with gasoline. He brought it back to Cigar and placed it by his side, waiting for him to wake up before getting back to the fun. 

It took several minutes for Cigar to wake up, first showing signs of life with a flinch then another, then he opened his eyes with a sudden horrified scream. It was loud and broken and filled with absolute agony. He strained against his restraints, making very little progress and only succeeding in cutting up his wrists and ankles. Blood trickled from reopened wounds, and Cigar sobbed loudly, squeezing his eyes shut to fight the tears. 

“Good.” Drake murmured, gingerly walking over to Cigar and grabbing the canister. “You’re awake.” He held it up to Cigar’s face, emphasizing the gasoline that swooshed around inside. The scent quickly filled the room, making Cigar woozy from the fear that rushed through his body. Drake lifted the canister above Cigar’s head and slowly poured it all over his body, not stopping until the can was empty and Cigar was covered from head to toe with the fuel and was letting out muffled sounds of displeasure and fear.

He tossed aside the empty can and reached inside the pocket of his black, cargo vest, fishing around until he found the cold metal of his lighter. He went over to the cupboard and grabbed a bit of paper towel, tearing off a small bit and lighting it on fire. He watched it burn for a moment before turning back to Cigar. “Say hi to Caine for me.” He said, voice low and menacing. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he tossed the burning paper onto Cigar’s lap, engulfing him in flames in a matter of moments. He screamed wildly, thrashing around as skin blackened and clothes turned to ash. 

Suddenly, the screams faded into oblivion as Cigar’s body went rigid. Charred flesh lined a body that looked more like a monster than any human Drake had ever seen. Drake went over to the body, plunging the knife into Cigar's chest and drawing it down, carving open his body with one swift slice. He thrust his hand inside the still warm torso of the corpse, fishing around until he came across the plump, little appendix. He cut it free and sunk his teeth into it, moaning in delight as it squirted juices into his mouth.

Drake spent the rest of the evening feasting on the slightly overdone, crispy flesh and guts of Cigar and once he had devoured his share, he tossed the rest to the coyotes, letting them make quick work of his remains. It didn't take long for the last of the evidence to disappear into the bellies of the coyotes.

Drake would never find out about the accident that damaged Cigar’s vocal chords and rendered him mute.


End file.
